


Safe & Secure

by glim



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Sickfic, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9423836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: He hates this, though; he hates being sick and how being sick reminds him of cold hotel rooms after long flights and mornings spent in colder airports.





	

Viktor wakes slowly at first, hazily aware of the warm blankets and the dark of the room around him. He tugs one of the blankets back up over his shoulders, presses his face into the pillow, and wills himself back asleep. That doesn't work, however, and instead of dozing off, he becomes more and more fully awake. 

With the wakefulness comes the awareness of why he's not able to get back to sleep. His throat is sore and dry, and there's that strange catch at the back of it, the one that seems to settle between his throat and chest and that promises him he's going to start coughing at some point. 

Sitting up, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. It's probably the sore throat. Or maybe the headache that's starting to pound behind his eyes. Or both; it could easily be both. 

The sore throat had been there when he fell asleep, and his hope had been that sleeping would diminish the headache, but that's worse now. Lowering his hands, Viktor gives a quiet groan that's just enough to make his throat feel worse.

He needs to get out of bed before he starts coughing, and he should probably have something to drink if he doesn't want it to start at all. The thought of water sends a shiver through him; the thought of getting out of bed does the same, but worse. His apartment always feels too quiet and still in the middle of the night, too cold and empty. He doesn't like to reminded of the coldness and emptiness. 

Tea, though, with honey and lemon, very strong and almost too hot to drink is what he really wants. He's awake anyway, and the catch in his chest is already threatening his breathing. 

The cough almost rises up to overwhelm when his feet hit the floor; a hand to his chest and few careful breaths, then the chilly walk to the kitchen in the dim, grey predawn light. Which means it's not really night time anymore, and that Viktor's managed to sleep a few more hours than he thought he would. 

He hates this, though; he hates being sick and how being sick reminds him of cold hotel rooms after long flights and mornings spent in colder airports. He hates how the feel of his feet on the cold kitchen floor makes his threat ache worse and how he can't just wish the feeling away. Or to sleep it away. It used to be so much easier to sleep through feeling poorly than to try to work through the odd, empty feeling of being ill and alone. 

"... hey, what're y'doing?" Yuuri shuffles into the kitchen and, before Viktor can answer, wraps his arms around Viktor from behind. "Why are you up? Aren't you cold?" 

"Tea." The warmth envelops him immediately, warmth and affection, the likes of which he had not dared to contemplate on nights like this years before. 

"Doing tea?" Yuuri presses his face to Viktor's shoulder and muffles his voice, but there's a warmth in that, too, in his sleep-slurred words. "You feel really bad?"

Viktor shrugs. "It's nothing, I just couldn't get back to sleep. Did I wake you up? I tried not to..."

"Get back in bed. I'll bring you your tea. You'll feel better after you sit up for a little while."

"Yuuri, it's nothing--"

"Mnn... Viktor," Yuuri's voice is a long, low, sleepy imitation of Viktor's. He hugs him more tightly, one hand against his chest, then turns him back to the bedroom. "Get back in bed, okay?" 

"Ah," Viktor says, surprised by both the tone of Yuuri's voice, fond and firm, and by his lack of desire to object. He can tell himself it's the lingering headache and raw throat that renders him so amenable, but it's something deeper than that. "If you really feel like making me tea, you can do that." 

"I do feel like it. Bed? You look really tired," he adds, and rubs Viktor's chest. 

Viktor shakes his head at Yuuri, and gives him a smile to make it look like he's indulging Yuuri. But just below the surface of his smile is immense relief: to be able to get back in bed, to know that in a few minutes he'll have hot tea, to remember that he's not alone any more and that no matter how quiet and cold his flat is in the middle of the night, it's not empty anymore.

The bed is still sleep-warm, and the bedroom soft-edged in the light of the one bedside lamp Yuuri's put on. Viktor sits, waits a minute for the sound of tea cups and spoons, then allows himself the luxury of curling up on his fiancé's side of the bed. He dozes off, both of Yuuri's pillows hugged against his chest, and opens his eyes when he feels Yuuri stroking his hair from his forehead. 

This time when he pulls himself awake, he does start coughing. But this time, Yuuri rubs his back and fixes the blankets and pillows for him, and pulls Viktor to sit against his chest before pressing a cup of hot tea into Viktor's hands.

"There... Drink all of this, and sit up with me for a little while. You look ready to fall asleep again, though, and I don't know why you got out of bed when you're still sick." Yuuri rests his cheek against Viktor's hair and makes a small, curious sound.

"Yuuri, you're so good to me, even when I can make my own tea." Viktor takes a sip from the mug and it's perfect, it's exactly how he likes his tea when he's not feeling well, and the thought that Yuuri knows how to prepare it for him makes Viktor's chest go a bit too tight. He turns his face into Yuuri's chest, tries to think of something cleverly fond, but sighs, "I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you up, though. I'm not used to... to this."

"I know... but you don't have to worry about that now. You can ask for tea when you feel really awful, you know that right? You can ask for what you need, Vitya." 

And Yuuri's right; Viktor knows he's right, but sometimes he need to hear the words, to be reminded of what they sound like when Yuuri says them, and to feel the warmth in them that fill the last small, lonely places inside him. Viktor nods against Yuuri's chest and drinks his tea, and the last thing he can remember before falling asleep is Yuuri taking the empty mug from his fingers, his voice warm and amused and fond.


End file.
